


Cocktails & Lullabies

by delighted



Series: Mess [2]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Follow-up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8847040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted/pseuds/delighted
Summary: Follow-up to “Now Your Mess Is Mine.”Steve’s helping Danny get over his split from Amber—uh, Melissa.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [those who asked for more](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=those+who+asked+for+more), [JeffreyAlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeffreyAlan/gifts).



> Oh, I am so so sorry it took me so long to get this up. I actually wrote it pretty much right away after "Mess," but my life got a bit not-friendly-to-writing for a while there, and editing is way harder than writing, so it sat for a long time.... But here, at last, it is! I hope it was worth waiting for..... 
> 
> Extra special thanks to the wonderful JeffreyAlan for this one, as he read a draft when I was struggling with it, and pointed out something I would not have seen that absolutely needed fixing. (All remaining mistakes are absolutely my fault.) He also provided the title, when I begged him to come up with something, because I could not think of one. Thank you. <3 
> 
> A couple other things:
> 
> Steve plays the guitar... [here’s what he plays.](https://youtu.be/B7uZuAPKnRI)
> 
> As is the case with my “Date Night” stories in [“The Best Medicine,”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5560741/chapters/12825547) all the menu items are real.

Fortunately, Steve was used to sleeping in awkward positions.

He’d tried, at various points in the night, to just settle down on the floor, but each time he’d withdrawn his head from its place on Danny’s knee there’d been a whimper at the loss of contact, and Danny’s hand, which had remained on Steve’s head, would reflexively grab a fistful of Steve’s hair. He’d had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing, but he had given in and stayed put. So, he’d had a bit of a rough night, though he knew it was nothing to the rough nights Danny’d been having, so he paid the price willingly.

Finally his body could take it no longer, and he very slowly extricated himself from Danny’s clutches. First things first, he put on a fresh pot of coffee. While it was brewing, he tidied up the kitchen, went through the pantry and fridge and made a grocery list, ran the dishwasher, cleaned out some terrifying things growing in the back of the fridge.

Then he started some laundry. Towels first. Then Danny’s clothes. He started tidying things up a bit. He didn’t know where a lot of things went, but he used a laundry basket from Grace’s room and tossed stray items in it to be put away later.

He dusted, wiped down mirrors, straightened blinds, made Charlie’s bed. What he really wanted was to vacuum, but Danny was still sleeping, and he knew that was so much more important. He thought about running out to the store, but was afraid if Danny woke up while he was gone... well. That was not something he wanted to have happen. So he stayed. Ate some leftovers. Drank too much coffee. And still Danny slept.

Steve settled in the chair next to the sofa and watched Danny sleep. Sitting next to the chair was a stack of books. He sorted through it, past some books Grace must have left, a couple books on fire trucks, and found a copy of _Eat Pray Love_. He opened it and saw there was a message in it, from Danny’s mom: “To help you find what you really want,” she’d written. Steve didn’t have anything else to do, so he started reading.

He’d gotten a bit enmeshed in the book when he heard Danny start to stir. Quietly, he put the book down, and looked over at his sleeping partner. That rumpled look Danny’d had the day before had softened in his sleep. Danny’s hair was more mussed than Steve had ever seen it, and he felt physically pulled to smooth it down. But the roughness, the tension that had been there the previous day seemed faded. He didn’t exactly look peaceful. But he did look less tortured.

Danny’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey, babe,” he croaked out, licking his lips, smiling awkwardly, yet fondly, at Steve.

“Coffee?” Steve asked.

“Yes, please,” Danny replied with a smile.

Steve sat back down in the chair after handing Danny his coffee, and thought he perceived a slight look of disappointment at his choice of seat. Biting back a smile, he asked: “What can I do? I’ve started laundry, tidied up a bit, though vacuuming would be a good idea....” He kind of faded off. He’d intended on saying more, but the look Danny was giving him was... well. Kind of completely adorable. And it went directly to his heart and did some rather dizzying things. He felt his eyebrows go up slightly apprehensively. “What?”

Danny’s eyes were twinkling, and Steve thought he could feel some kind of buzz emanating off him that had nothing to do with coffee, even though he’d made it kind of stronger than usual. “You,” Danny said, simply.

That didn’t really help, oddly.

“What about me?” Steve asked, finding he was awfully close to holding his breath and his pulse was racing, although in fairness, he had been drinking far too much of that extra strong coffee.

Danny shook his head, smiled as though to himself, and took another sip of coffee, holding the mug to his face, breathing the steam in like it was some kind of healing elixir.

Steve kind of wanted to bounce. Danny always could drive him absolutely crazy—that had been one of the clues that had become too impossible to ignore, his mother’s voice echoing in his head from childhood when he’d complained about this girl he couldn’t stand, who always got on his nerves and made him want to yell. “That’s how you know, sweetie. That’s how you know,” she’d smiled and patted him on the head. He’d been so angry then, but later, when the girl had kissed him outside the locker room after a game, he’d understood.

Well, as much as he wanted to, he wasn’t about to kiss Danny right now, but he did allow himself to move closer. He kind of couldn’t help it. He might have sat down with a little more oomph than necessary, and it had the desired effect, as it made Danny’s coffee splash dangerously, and got him flustered and scolding Steve. _Yeah, it was bad_ , he thought, but the thrill he got from tormenting Danny was well worth it.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, but he knew he didn’t sound it, and Danny just shook his head.

“You’re impossible.”

Steve just smirked.

“I need food,” Danny suddenly realized. “Take me out for brunch?”

The smile that spread out across Steve’s face obliterated the smirk. “I know just the place. Go shower. I’ll bring you some clean clothes.” And he took Danny’s coffee from him, pulled him up, and pushed him towards his room.

“Hey, wait, I need my coffee,” Danny called.

“You can have it after you shower,” Steve said, knowing that was not going to go over very well.

“Oh my god I hate you.”

But Danny didn’t try to get his coffee back.

Steve grabbed some clothes out of the clean pile, then grabbed an extra set of everything and shoved them in his own bag, then took the first stack of clothes into Danny’s room and laid them on the bed. Looking around, he thought he could feel the sadness, the hurt, clinging to the walls. He resisted the urge to open the blinds, the windows, air it out. That would be something Danny would need to do himself. There was only so much Steve could do. But, he could offer Danny an alternative, just for now. And that was something he very much planned on doing.

 

Danny didn’t have much choice when it came to getting dressed. He had the clothes Steve had washed first, and those had not been work clothes. Maybe that was intentional, maybe not, but what Danny had was underwear, socks, undershirts, tee shirts, sweats... basically the knits. Any dress slacks or shirts, Steve hadn’t gotten to those yet (his point, when Danny brought it up—“Clean underthings are more important than clean outerthings, Danno.” Danny had been hard pressed to argue with that).

“Danny, it’s okay. Where I’m taking you, clothes don’t matter.”

Danny rolled his eyes in that overly dramatic way he seemed to save just for Steve. Steve grinned.

“Alright, babe, but if I run into someone who knows me, you have some explaining to do.”

Steve bit his lip. “Won’t be a problem, promise.” Maybe he felt a tad guilty, only for a second, but Steve was not about to share Danny right now, thank you very much. He had a perfectly stocked kitchen (as he always did, he would want me to point out, it wasn’t just for Danny, though he would probably confess to stocking things especially for Danny if he was pressed... say, a gun to his head, or something like that, just, in case anyone was wondering). But Steve didn’t see any reason why he should be sharing Danny at this point. Really, at any point. But certainly right now. He was not feeling in a generous spirit. He was very much wanting to keep Danny sequestered. As much for his own good as for Steve’s... ohh, territorial nature, shall we call it?

Danny figured it out quickly enough, what Steve’s plan was—he was kind of familiar with the route from his house to Steve’s after all—and he didn’t seem to object. He actually seemed to enjoy it. He brought a chair into the kitchen and sat, watching, enthralled (or at least pretending to be), as Steve cooked... just eggs and veggies, in a frittata kind of thing, with toast, and more coffee (Danny had complained a little about that one, even though he had finished his coffee after he showered, so Steve made that first). There was something about having someone in the kitchen with him, Steve found himself thinking, that was surprisingly nice. He’d never made much of a thing, before, cooking for someone who wasn’t family. He had his “date” cooking—usually steaks on the beach, bottle of wine, nothing super fancy. This was different. This was... he almost gasped when he realized it. Because of course it was, and it reminded him, in some small way, of their time with Mr Pickles (which he treasured, of course he did), but... it was _domestic_. He got a little annoyed with himself at that thought, because. Well. Jumping the gun and all that. Still. He found himself thinking that having a nice chair in the kitchen was something he should maybe think about, because having Danny sitting there, with his sarcastic comments and running commentary, while he cooked, well. He could get used to it, is all he was saying. He might have started thinking about getting a cat, as well, but he probably wouldn’t have admitted that.

When he was just about done with the frittata, he got out the stuff to make some drinks. He was trying not to be too show-off-y about this little bit of his plan, but he knew he was far too giddy about seeing Danny react. So, as he set the bottle of peach juice on the counter, and followed that up with a bottle of Prosecco, he might have been watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but Danny went completely still, then caught Steve’s gaze, and returned it with something Steve couldn’t begin to make out. His heart fluttered a little, but he opened the bottles and poured the drinks, handing Danny his, and clinking their glasses together, while meeting Danny’s eyes, wishing he could read what was on display in them.

Steve had learned on Maui that Danny had a thing for the sparkly peach drinks, when in an attempt to lure Danny back to a session he’d plied him with the alcohol that was nearest to hand. Danny’s bubbly response had matched that of the drink, and Steve had stored that information away, and he’d been thrilled to be able to have a chance to put it to use. If he’d counted on having Danny over at a time when the popular morning cocktail would be appropriate, well, let’s just not dwell on that for too long, shall we?

Taking a drink because at this point he needed it rather desperately, Steve watched as Danny held his, not looking at it, not sipping it, just staring at Steve.

“Just how long have you been planning this?” Danny finally asked.

“What do you mean?” Steve said, as he went for another sip, finding his pulse was racing, his famous Navy nerves utterly abandoning him, damn them.

“I mean,” Danny said slowly, setting his drink, still untouched, on the counter. “It is not a coincidence that you had this on hand. I’ve been in your fridge. Not something you usually keep in stock.”

Danny was kind of starting to freak him out. Steve set his glass down too—if nothing else, from a reflexive, self-protective impulse. If he took a step back, it was only because Danny was pulsing with some crazy intensity that Steve didn’t begin to understand. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been imagining.

“Danny...” he started, but couldn’t find the words. He sighed and leaned back against the counter. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. You know? You’re always doing nice things for other people, and you don’t get nice things done for you enough.”

That much was true, and it pissed Steve off. He’d need to borrow the hands of the whole team to count the number of times Danny’d bowed out of their plans because Amber—uh, Melissa—hadn’t wanted to do beer and shrimp, or because she didn’t want to go surfing, or because she was tired of RumFire. Steve had started to think maybe Danny had forgotten what it was like to have the things _he_ liked. And maybe Danny hadn’t really noticed, but Steve had been finding ways—for quite a long time, actually—of making sure Danny did get some of the things he loved. His favorite malasadas, lunch from his favorite place, his preferred beer in Steve’s office fridge. Actually, now he thought about it, maybe that hadn’t been the best idea, because maybe it had kept Danny from realizing what was going on. That bottle of peach juice, that bottle of Prosecco... those had been in Steve’s fridge for a very long time. Longer than he cared to admit. And, the fact that Danny hadn’t been over and noticed. Well, that said a whole lot right there.

Maybe Danny had known. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Maybe he saw something in Steve’s face, or heard something in his tone.... Whatever the reason, he suddenly backed down.

“Right. I’m sorry. I don’t know why....” But he tapered off awkwardly, and took a sip. As soon as those peachy bubbles hit his tongue, he did in fact perk up, just as Steve had predicted he would.

Trying, and no doubt failing, to suppress a smirk, Steve picked up the tray with their plates of food and pushed Danny towards the back door, and out to the lanai.

They wound up (and Steve probably should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t) reminiscing about Maui. Which was kind of a mixed bag, because part of the problem on that trip had been Danny’s insistence that he and Amber—ugh, _Melissa_ —still were a thing. Steve would admit, he’d hoped that trip might have gotten Danny to see she really wasn’t the best for him. If Steve had hoped Danny might see that it was _Steve_ who was, well. He knew he’d utterly failed on that count.

 

After they ate, Steve got Danny settled on the sofa to watch some football, and he had some chores to do himself. Not the least of which was that he wanted to get the guest room set up for Danny. Just in case. So, while Danny was distracted yelling all manner of things at the TV, Steve washed the sheets, aired out the room, turned the fan on. He wished he had fresh flowers, that was always a nice touch. He shook his head at himself. _He was in so much trouble_. At least he admitted it.

By the time he was done, Danny had quieted, and Steve went to check on him and found he’d fallen asleep on the sofa. How long had it been, Steve had to wonder, since he’d slept a proper night’s sleep in an actual bed? He was afraid to ask.

Leaving Danny a note on the coffee table, along with a beer in one of those keep-it-cold-things, Steve went out to swim.

When he came back, Danny was sitting on the lanai, drinking the beer, and holding a football.

“Play a little?” He asked.

“Yeah, buddy! Love to,” Steve replied, taking Danny’s beer from him for a sip, which earned him a nice slap on the behind. ( _Duly noted_ , his mind filed that away.)

They played what started out as a nice game of catch and turned into a rather aggressive game of tackle. Eventually, Danny collapsed in a heap on the grass, smiling and out of breath, but looking flushed and, dangit, _happy_. Steve was thrilled.

“Ahhh, babe, this has been fantastic. But I’d better get going.”

Steve bit his lip. Danny was instantly on guard.

“What, babe?” He asked, in that tone of _now what have you done_.

Steve grimaced. “I might have brought a change of clothes for you, just... in case....” He chanced a look at Danny, and saw danger.

“What exactly are you playing at here, Steven, huh?”

Steve gulped. “Easy, Danny, I just thought it’d be good for you to get out of the house, be away from that for a bit.” He paused. It was his best hope for persuading him, because surely: “Sleep in a real bed....” If he dangled that out there like a lure, it was only fair. “I made up the guest room while you were watching the game. Just in case.” Danny was out and out glaring at him now. Steve sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to, but, Danny. A bed. You can’t keep sleeping on the sofa, buddy, you just can’t.”

Danny sighed so heavily Steve almost cringed, but still didn’t say anything.

“Why is it so hard for you to have someone want to take care of you?” Steve asked. Then added, almost to himself, and probably just a little bit angrily: “Why is it so impossible to believe that _I_ would want to do that?”

That somehow made an impact on Danny, who looked practically scolded. He sighed. “Okay, babe, but the least I can do is order us some take out.” He paused, and Steve could see an idea light up Danny’s eyes. “Indian?” He asked, almost but not quite biting back a smile.

Steve’s heart nearly melted at that because he knew that was a direct reference to Mr Pickles and that whole conversation, that whole time between them, when things had really shifted. There was something else there, too, he was certain, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. Trying not to look too thrilled, he nodded in acquiescence. His smile gave him away, though, because Danny rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“It’s just take out, babe,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out to Steve. “Come on, you gotta shower first. You stink.”

Steve laughed, grabbed Danny into a bear hug, and took him inside.

 

They ate their food in front of the TV, as they had so many times before. Steve had recorded the premiere of the _MacGyver_ reboot, which they had been talking about since it had been announced, and they settled in, eager to see how it was. They allowed the new kid was kinda cute, but agreed it just wasn’t the same without the mullet and the cheesy 80s music. But Danny’s main objection seemed to focus around the leather jacket.

“I mean, it’s hot enough running around after jerks trying to blow things up. You’re really going to be more concerned with looking cool while you’re doing it?”

“Well, he’s gotta keep his paper clips someplace, Danno,” Steve kidded.

At the end of the episode, when the new team was sitting around discussing a name for themselves, Steve’s jaw dropped open. He looked over at Danny who was looking amused as well.

“Well, _that_ was familiar.”

“Yeah, buddy.” Steve shook his head. “So long ago, huh?”

“Yeah,” Danny said softly, still looking at Steve. He appeared to gather himself, then stood up. “Well, shockingly, I actually am sleepy again, so before I fall over, I’ll just go on up....”

“Yeah, buddy. Okay. Sleep well.”

“Thanks....”

Steve looked at his watch, as Danny walked away, partly so he wouldn’t have to look at Danny. Alright, so he _couldn’t_ look at Danny. It was getting late, and he was exhausted. But there was just no way he was going to sleep. So he walked to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of whiskey, went up to his room, grabbed his guitar, and headed out to the lanai. There was one song particularly on his mind to play tonight, to help soothe himself to sleep.

After Deb had died, Steve had not slept well. One day he’d been hanging out with Kamekona, who’d been working on getting him to play some Hawaiian tunes. Noticing Steve was looking rather sleep deprived (more than usual, at any rate), Kamekona had suggested he try playing himself some island lullabies. For some reason, Steve had kind of fallen in love with that idea, and had begun collecting sheet music for anything with “Lullaby” in the title. He might have had thoughts of playing those for someone else at some point, but for now they’d been really soothing to him, and yeah, it had helped him to sleep better. There were several he loved, but one had become his favorite, mostly, he would admit, for its name.

He got comfortable on the wicker sofa, took a sip of his whiskey, and settled in to play. He noodled around for a bit first, playing with the tune that had become so familiar to him, then he just let it flow off his fingers, soft and soothing, yet playful and loving... and he found himself, as he always did with “Booboo’s Lullaby,” smiling to himself and thinking far too fondly of his blond haired, blue eyed partner.

After he finished, he set the guitar aside, downed the rest of his whiskey, and sat, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table, feet bare, listening to the waves, feeling the evening cooling in the air. He could smell the plumeria. And he knew it was impossible, but he felt like he could hear Danny sleeping. Somehow, just having him in the house, Steve was finding made him feel calmer. It wasn’t that Steve typically worried about Danny—not like Danny obsessively worried about Steve injuring himself or doing something stupid. But when Danny was upset, when Danny was glum, it impacted Steve in a way he couldn’t quite understand. He’d never really had that problem before. Sure, when Catherine had been angry or hurt or bothered in some way, Steve had felt bad (if, that was, he’d noticed—Catherine was a lot better at hiding her emotions than Danny was, let’s be fair). But while Steve had sometimes found himself trying to cheer Chin or Kono or even Jerry up when they seemed to him to be upset, he never really felt himself personally affected by their distress. Not like he did with Danny. It sometimes felt like every little blip on his partner’s emotional radar echoed in Steve’s own heart. He was more than a little disconcerted by it, but he’d decided it could be a very useful thing. _If_ he chose to use it. Which was something he’d been struggling with, because he hadn’t really felt entitled. He’d found himself wanting to, and had come close a number of times, especially in the weeks leading up to the Amber—uh, Melissa... break up. But he’d been holding back, telling himself it wasn’t his place.

But now, with Danny, freely here... well, Steve wasn’t going to push. He knew better. Danny needed to make those moves, make those choices. Steve had made his position, he hoped, utterly clear. He just needed to be patient. Which was something he was both good and not-so-good at. That jumping out of his skin feeling was something Danny inspired in him daily. And yet at the same time, somehow, Steve’s reserves of patience and understanding, and how much he was able and willing to give... Danny had somehow procured a much larger store of that than anyone Steve had ever known. And that was something that had puzzled Steve. Until he’d finally admitted that he knew why. And had known for a very long time.

Sighing, picking up the guitar again, Steve played through his favorite lullaby one more time. Then he went to bed.

 

When he woke up, it was early, but not much earlier than he’d usually get up. He went to check on Danny, saw him sleeping soundly and mostly peaceful looking. Smiling, biting his lip, Steve held his breath and sent blessings towards the island gods of restful sleep for the emotionally wounded. Then he headed out to swim.

Usually his mind cleared when he swam. Sometimes it took a while, which was why he tended to swim for a long time. This morning, he found, he was feeling a lot more clear headed, and he was pretty sure he knew why. So, with thoughts only vaguely dwelling on images of sleepy blue eyes, Steve swam maybe a little bit less than he usually did. So he was a little surprised when he noticed Danny was sitting in his chair by the water, as Steve neared the shore. His heart swelled in his chest, he found his breathing a little jagged, and he had to take some very deep breaths as he walked out of the water towards a smirking blond.

Ducking his head as he reached for his towel, he looked over at Danny, quickly assessing his state. He couldn’t get past the smirk.

“Nice swim?” Danny asked, into his steaming mug of coffee.

Steve permitted himself a little—subtle, very subtle, really—shaking of his wet hair in Danny’s general direction. Danny gave him a little glare, but declined to comment, which sent odd shivers down Steve’s arms.

“Yeah, buddy, it was real nice. You shoulda come in.”

Danny bit his lips together. “Nah, much nicer to sit here, all dry and with coffee.”

“Bring me any?” Steve asked—tempted, oh, so tempted, to reach over and steal Danny’s, to see if he couldn't recreate Danny's reaction to his beer being stolen.

Danny reached down to his feet and pulled up a thermos. He offered it, so it seemed to Steve, like a peace offering. His eyes said “I’m sorry I've been a suspicious jerk,” even if he didn’t say it out loud, and frankly that was more than Steve needed. He smiled back, he hoped in an appreciative way, and gratefully took the coffee.

Steve had already decided what he was going to say to Danny that morning, and he figured he’d better get it over with, because he was pretty sure Danny would argue with him about it.

“I want you to take the day off, okay, partner?” He began, trying to use his kindest “boss” voice. Technically, he could order Danny to stay home. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t doubt Danny’s ability to stay focused if it came to it, but he wasn’t sure _he_ wouldn’t spend the day worrying about Danny—instead of focusing on the job. Much easier for Steve, and better for Danny, if he spent the day taking care of the things he needed to.

Danny was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and he looked over at Steve, like he was about to argue, but something shifted in his glance and instead he just nodded, and went back to his coffee. After a bit, having evidently thought it through, he said “Yeah, I should really get the house in order. Get back to life.”

Steve considered Danny’s tone for a bit. “Danny, this _is_ life. Right here. This.”

He thought he’d guessed right, given the way Danny gasped just softly, tilted his head, and closed his eyes. Steve nodded to himself. _Still fighting it, then_ , he thought. Well. One day wasn’t very much time to get used to the idea.

“Come over for dinner?” He asked softly, instead.

Danny hid his smile in his coffee cup, which made Steve go warm in the chest.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

Steve called Danny on his way home. It was later than he’d wanted, but he still planned to do something nice for dinner. At this point, it was probably going to be take out of some sort, so he’d called to see what he could stop and get. Danny had sounded awfully smug. And had seemed to know that Steve would be running late. It half crossed his mind that Kono might have played some part in that. She’d been acting oddly towards him all day, and had twice run out for something she wouldn’t explain.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, he listened to what Danny was saying which was along the lines of “That’s okay, dear, just come home, dinner’s ready.” Which, okay, Steve would admit made him drive a bit faster, and not just because he was afraid of what Danny might have done to his kitchen. He was pretty sure Danny would _not_ have actually tried to cook. Not in his state. Surely.....

Danny greeted him at the door, all sweetness and smiles, and actually, _actually_ kissed him on the cheek. Steve tried not to blush.

The dining room table was all laid out. Placemats, cloth napkins, the nice dishes, and a platter of all of Steve’s favorite sushi, sashimi, and maki from Morimoto’s. Some of which—heck most of which—Danny could not possibly have remembered. Which meant he asked Morimoto, who knew Steve’s favorites by heart. Which meant.... Steve gulped. Then he noticed the drinks Danny had made, in cocktail glasses he was sure he’d never seen before—they certainly were not ones he owned.

“Danny.... is that...?”

Danny smirked, bit his lip, and held one out to Steve. “Did I get it right?”

Steve had wanted to kiss Danny for so long now, and sometimes it had been actually physically painful, but right now he seriously thought he would turn himself inside out with the need. He stepped closer to Danny to take the glass, and knew he was holding his breath. He took the glass from Danny, who was looking frankly nervous. Steve could smell the lychee as he brought the glass to his lips. He couldn’t have said how or why, but it was the most seductive smell he knew. This drink. Oh, it was embarrassing to admit how much he loved it. Danny knew, of course he did, because they’d had a few celebrations at Morimoto’s and once, just once, Steve had given in and ordered the drink, after several others had loosened his hold on wishing to appear less... unhinged, maybe. Because it made him weak in the knees, this drink. He’d only known that because once Morimoto had made it for him when he was moping around while Danny was off to Maui with Amber, after that whole building falling on their heads thing.

He took a sip, his head already spinning with too many memories.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You got it right.”

Danny smiled. Took the glass away from Steve, steered him towards his seat, warm hand pressed firmly to the small of Steve’s back. He felt like melting.

Still standing at his side, far _too_ close to his side, Danny shifted the platter closer, then with chopsticks, selected one piece each of Steve’s favorites, placing them on the plate in front of him in such a deliberate way, Steve couldn’t help but feel there was something Danny was trying to tell him. He offered him the bottle of soy sauce, a small tray of accoutrements, and handed him some truly elegant chopsticks, again, which he didn’t recognize.

Then Danny sat down, across from him, and Steve shivered at the loss of heat.

Taking a sip of his own drink, Danny made a face, but then took another sip. “It kind of grows on you, I suppose,” he said, thoughtfully.

Steve smiled. He shook his head, staring at Danny like he was some unfathomable creature.

“What?” Danny asked, silkily. Maybe that was the booze talking, he didn’t know, but it sure looked and sounded like Danny was... well. Playing him? Hmmm.

“Just wondering what you got up to today that led to all this,” Steve said, kind of surprised that he’d actually been thinking that—his mind felt like it was full of _ohmygod just kiss me already,_ and _crap you’re hot,_ and _oh just I can’t take it_. When had the mind of Steve McGarrett become so like a teenager again?

Danny rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Nothing much. Went home for a bit, aired the place out—it actually _smelled_ like self pity and moping. Couldn’t stand to be there for long, so I packed a bag and came back here.” He looked torn between sheepish and bold, and Steve’s blood surged in his veins, making his ears buzz. “Hope that’s okay....” Danny trailed off, looking expectantly at Steve.

“Yeah, of course, buddy. Of course it is. That room’s yours as long as you like.”

Danny looked relieved, but also emboldened, and Steve loved that. “Thanks, babe,” he said, meeting Steve’s eyes, and Steve would have sworn he saw a flash of something in them he’d not seen before. He took a breath and a drink, then forced himself to eat something, because he was certain he was going to need his strength.

After they finished eating, Danny made more drinks (there’d been a pitcher of them, and yes, they’d gone through that) and brought a box of the delightful strawberry profiteroles, and stood, kind of uncertain, looking at Steve.

“What is it, buddy?”

“Could we, uh... that is.” He bit his lip. “So last night you were playing your guitar....”

Steve couldn’t help it. A grin to rival the Cheshire Cat spread across his face. _So. Danny_ had _been awake_.

“Like that, did you?”

Danny looked torn between wanting to smack Steve and kiss him, and Steve kind of liked that.

“Just shut up.”

“Yeah, let’s go upstairs. I’ll play for you.”

Danny shook his head, closed his eyes, and looked like he was praying for the strength to deal with this. Steve wholeheartedly agreed.

They got settled on the upstairs lanai, Steve with his guitar, Danny sitting across from him, looking far too tense for Steve’s liking. He popped two of the profiteroles and washed them down with too big a gulp of the cocktail, licked his fingers off (which he noticed made Danny shiver), then started to play. Not his favorite lullaby, but another. Danny relaxed a little, nibbled adorably on one of the strawberry-flavored sweets, and sipped his drink (having evidently finally given in to them being utterly delightful).

Steve finished the song, began another, and Danny settled more comfortably into his chair, even kicking his shoes off, which Steve always counted as a major victory.

After a few more songs, and Danny’s drink being finished, Steve paused to finish his.

“The one you played last night....” Danny began softly.

Steve held his breath.

“Play it again?”

He smirked. “Yeah, buddy, of course.”

And he did. He knew it well enough that he didn’t have to watch his fingering, so he watched Danny instead. And Danny watched him. Half way through Steve decided that this was, without a doubt, the sexiest, most seductive experience of his entire life. Maybe that was the lychee liqueur talking. Probably it was. But either way, it was intense.

When he finished, he was short of breath.

“I like that one,” Danny said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll play it for you any time, Danny.”

Danny smiled. “I should really....” he trailed off.

Steve closed his eyes on a smile. “Yeah, me too.” It was getting late, after all. He stood up, picked up his glass in one hand, had his guitar in the other. He turned towards the door and found Danny blocking his path.

“Hi,” he whispered.

Danny bit his lips together, licked them, then leaned slowly in. He pressed a feather soft kiss to Steve’s lips.

“Thanks, babe,” he said softly, as he pulled slowly, oh, so slowly away.

When Steve opened his eyes, he saw Danny looking up at him, shyly, almost. Sweetly. Gratefully.

He licked his lips, and smiled back. “Good night, Danny.” And he found he was very grateful to have both hands full, so that as Danny walked inside, Steve couldn’t reach out for him.

 _One step at a time_ , he said to himself, and went to get ready for bed.


End file.
